“Well,” said Mr Thursley, with a laugh, “a peep of him would have sufficed for me. I suppose he was telling you all about America?”
“Yes, papa.”
“Every young man nowadays thinks he can fathom a new country with a glance. And what did he think of the Yankees, your young man?”
“Oh, of course, papa, he gives a very different account from that of the old rough time when we thought all Americans Yankees. Of course he likes some things and dislikes others—as one does in every new place.”
“You’re all so deuced philosophical nowadays—not so much as a good honest prejudice to be met with,” said the father. “Well, and any more? How did he like their business ways?”
“From what I could glean, not at all, papa; but we had other things to talk about.”
“Oh, to be sure; other things before which the aspect of a great country dwindles into nothing.”
“Not that,” said Madeline, faltering a little, “but of course more important personally to ourselves.”
“That is quite true, my dear; and I oughtn’t to say a word. Of course it’s not so pleasant to me as to you; I needn’t say I’ll miss you,—neither need I say that nothing could make me stand in your way. I suppose you’ve been settling everything?”
“We should not have been so hasty in any circumstances,” she said, with a blush. “But as it happens, we couldn’t—settle anything.”